Fight
by RobertDowneyJrLove
Summary: A look into those last few scenes of 'Communication Breakdown'. Chance realizes that Ilsa's brought out a part of him, he thought was gone. A part of him that'd fight for her to the end.


_"...Hector Lopez is here." _

That's all he needed to hear. The only four words that he needed to hear come out of her mouth to send him running to his car. It didn't matter than he had left Winston and Guerrero clueless as to what was going on. It didn't matter that not twenty-four hours earlier they were ready to kill each other. All that mattered was getting to her before Hector Lopez could do anything, before he could kill her. The mere thought of Ilsa dying at the hands of a very capable South American assassin because he fell for Maria's tricks and got them both in trouble was not something he was positive he could live with-he couldn't live with her dying period but knowing that he was the reason she was killed was something he knew he couldn't live with.

Whether or not he could make it was the only thought on his mind as he pressed the gas pedal to the floor, weaved in and out of traffic, and stared straight ahead, determined to get to her. The thought of Hector killing her before he could get there was terrifying him, gripping him with an overwhelming fear of what could greet him when he arrived. The second traffic jam was the worst, people were being forced to stop by a policeman. Ripping the key from the ignition, he got out of the car and took off running down the street. He could sense the stares he was getting but he didn't care. People were staring at him, they usually did, it didn't change the fact that the thought of Hector Lopez killing his partner-his friend, was still gripping his mind like a vice. It didn't change the guilt that was threatening to overcome him at any second over some of the things he had said to her.

As he weaved in and out, desperate to get to Ilsa, he ignored the fact that if traffic were to start moving it wouldn't matter whether or not he could get to Ilsa, because he would be in the hospital nursing broken bones and damaged body parts. The street was wet, giving him little traction but that was the least of his worries, all he was worried about was getting to her. Getting to the only person that mattered to him at the moment. Despite her not wanting him to save her all the time, he couldn't help it. It was his natural instinct to save her. His blue eyes were watery and he fought to keep them open in the wind and rain, every muscle in his stomach was painfully clenched at the mere thought of Ilsa in the hands of Hector Lopez. The sound of a gunshot was the first thing he heard as he started to her apartment and his hand went to the gun in the holster on his hip. His eyes immediately found her, laying on the floor, completely still with Lopez on top of her.

He could feel his stomach work its way up to his throat and the familiar throb of nausea in the back of his throat. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight, the ocean water blue becoming a dark sapphire blue. He tried to blink away the salty sting of tears but to no avail. They stung his eyes anyway. He couldn't get rid of them. He wasn't surprised to see Lopez stand up and turn to face him but as he looked behind Lopez at Ilsa, he was surprised to see the bloody bullet hole in Lopez's chest. He sighed in relief as Hector Lopez fell to the floor, dead.

She was alive. She was bloody, bruised and crying but she was alive.

He could have cried himself. Cried in relief that she was alive. Cried in relief that Hector Lopez was dead. Cried because she lost the innocence of never having killed anybody. He wasn't one to cry, he was a man after all. Men didn't cry.

Oh, but he could think of a thousand different reasons to excuse a man crying right now.

As he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, rubbing her back and trying desperately to get rid of the image of Hector Lopez on top of Ilsa, he couldn't help but sigh in relief. She was alive. She was real. He had her, wrapped safely in his arms. Her small body was pressed against his, the warmth seeping through her robe. He could feel her breathing against his neck, the hot, moist air just one more reminder that he hadn't been too late.

He had saved her.

Or had she saved him? Had she managed to bring out the part of him that he thought had long since disappeared? A part of him that nobody but Katherine had been privilege too? A part of him that cared for her more than he thought. A part of him that had disappeared when Baptiste killed Katherine. A part of him that not even Winston and Guerrero had been privilege too.

He fought for her.

Fought to keep her alive. Fought to keep that innocence that he found in her eyes. The innocence of never having taken another human life. An innocence that he had long ago lost.

Then it had all come crashing down.

Along came Maria and Hector Lopez and his entire world had crashed down around him. Maria had roped him into something that had nearly killed all of them. It had nearly killed her. He didn't care about himself, in his mind, he deserved whatever he had coming to him. Although she hadn't seen it that way at first, after the plane had crashed her opinion had altered slightly. The whole Maria incident had temporarily altered her opinion of him. He wasn't the upstanding citizen that she saw him as. He wasn't the good guy. He was the bad guy trying to become the good guy but willing to accept death if that was his fate.

He wasn't a superhero.

But he could fight.

And he would fight for her any day of the week.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, I know this isn't the usual smexi goodness I usually post but I had this on my computer and I wanted to post something a little more serious than my other stuff so I hope you like it :)<strong>


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